Chapter VII: Leona and the Islanders

Three months and over had passed and gone, and though, during at least six weeks of this time, there were violent storms of rain and thunder, that seemed to shake the island to its very foundation, still the fishing went merrily on.

The dark-skinned natives were paid with cloth, beads, and tobacco. Money they despised.

The whole bottom of that deep lagoon was bedded inches deep with pearl oysters; and the savages worked like Trojans, seeming never to tire.

Their drink was the water found in the young cocoa-nuts. While still green, these contain about a pint and a half of pure water that tastes like iced milk. At this time the nut contains no kernel, only a little delicious transparent jelly sticking around the shell.

Our boys went constantly down in their divers’ suits, and could remain comfortably below a long time, and fill their bags, while the natives could stay but little over a minute.

Our young heroes were permitted to keep all the pearls they found, and many were very valuable.

But diving was not unattended with danger, for in the lagoon were not only sharks--huge and awful monsters--but great, ungainly, horrid alligators.

Somehow they never dared attack the boys or Antonio in the diver’s dress.

The savages used to dive together in parties of six to ten, and they were then unmolested by the tigers of the sea.

One day a young brave, probably to give himself éclat with the pretty, dark-skinned maidens who stood watching on the beach, took his spear and dived alone.

Two minutes slipped away. He came not to the surface, but dark red blood and bubbles soon rose up and revealed his fate--torn in pieces by sharks or alligators.

This episode was soon forgotten.

The girls grinned and laughed.

“Plenty good ’gator,” one said who had learned a little English. “Plenty good ’gator.[9] I lubee he. He one good man--he lub de _bukalo_ feast. Num! num! num!”

And she licked the back of her hand with a species of cannibalistic frenzy that made Barclay Stuart shudder.

Some of these interesting maidens smiled and pointed to the boys, and even nodded to them.

“They’ve fallen in love with you,” said Antonio, smiling.

Antonio was not half so weird-looking now that he had discharged that uncanny eye.

“In love,” cried Barclay; “I would not sweetheart one of those girls for all the gold in Queensland.”

“Oh,” continued Antonio, “that isn’t the kind of love they love you with. They want to broil and eat you, dearie.”

* * * * *

Months went on; the sponges collected on the sea beach were tied to sticks in the sand at low water, in thousands. When the tide was high it washed them; when low, the sun bleached them; and so all the innumerable animalculæ that dwelt in their cells soon decayed and washed away.

As soon as they were thoroughly dry and clean, they were taken off to the ship in boats.

* * * * *

But during all these months Leona had not been idle. Her heart bled to think that these poor benighted savages should never have heard the history of the world, as mythically revealed in the Book of Books.

She determined to tell them this story, and the better and happier story that followed--the story of Jesus Christ our Saviour.

She hired natives to build a church on a hillside, with great open windows in it that looked far out over the lone blue sea. The church was entirely composed of palm leaves woven together, and supported on bamboo poles. There was squatting room for five hundred.

Leona’s sermons were simplicity itself, and couched in the language of the islanders.

She told of the fall of man after the creation of the world, of the gradual peopling of the earth, of the promises of salvation held out to God’s people through the mouths of His prophets, and last of all of the coming of the gentle Saviour to this weary, sinful world--of His humble birth, His boyhood, His wondrous work, and His awful death on the cross, from the time He was nailed up until His gentle spirit was wafted away with the ever-memorable words, “’Tis finished.”

Her prayers were most earnest and touching, and many of her humble listeners wept aloud. Antonio himself conducted the music. The little man was clever, and had translated many of our most beautiful paraphrases into the island language; and these, wedded to lovely old tunes like Martyrdom or London New, seemed to go straight away to the hearts of these simple savages, and stir up feelings such as they had never before experienced.

The paraphrase I think which affected them more than most others, perhaps I may be allowed here to transcribe. It is founded on the seventh chapter of Revelation, from verse 13 to the end. It had been feelingly translated by Antonio, who touched the guitar, as he sung--

“How bright these glorious spirits shine!
Whence all their white array?
How came they to the blissful seats
Of everlasting day?

Lo! these are they from suff’rings great,
Who came to realms of light,
And in the blood of Christ have washed
Those robes which shine so bright.

* * * * *

Hunger and thirst are felt no more,
Nor suns with scorching ray;
God is their sun, whose cheering beams
Diffuse eternal day.

The Lamb which dwells amidst the throne
Shall o’er them still preside;
Feed them with nourishment divine,
And all their footsteps guide.

’Mong pastures green He’ll lead His flock,
Where living streams appear;
And God the Lord from every eye
Shall wipe off every tear.”